#1
Kelela
Take Me Apart
Album Average
8.599
Our final statistics for Take Me Apart:
Highest average: 9.571 (@ohnostalgia)
Lowest average: 6.143 (@happiestgirl)
My average: 9.321
Top 5:
1. @ohnostalgia - 9.571
2. @constantino / @LE0Night / @R92 - 9.429
5. @Kuhleezi - 9.357
Bottom 5:
1. @happiestgirl - 6.143
2. @theelusivechanteuse - 7.214
3. @kermit_the_frog - 7.357
4. @Trouble in Paradise - 7.75
5. @ufint / @JamesJupiter - 8.071
Summary:
Ok, so my history with Kelela probably runs the shortest of all the women assessed here, something which I don’t mind being rather open about. Much of my critiques of her earlier work still stands for me, and I let that be known in her very thread when
Take Me Apart was still due to be released. I knew very little of Kelela’s work besides finding her passingly intriguing but ultimately not someone offering a fuller body of work for me to invest in (as I’m not much one for EP’s), and feel a larger format usually allows an artist to better establish a narrative from top to bottom (kii). So it wasn’t until the opportune moment of “LMK” being as ridiculously undeniable as it was upon release, as well as
Insecure featuring the LP’s opening track,
in addition to me realizing that much of Kelela’s philosophies on gender, sexuality, race and a slew of other social justice-related topics, mirrored in ways the thoughts and ideas that I carry for these discussions myself, that I truly had my epiphany with her work and her approach to it. And now I can’t see myself ever turning back…
Kelela, a second-generation Ethiopian born in D.C. but raised in Gaithersburg, Maryland, made her music debut in October 2013 with
CUT 4 ME, a free mixtape released to Soundcloud and Youtube, as well as a download from Fade to Mind (which you can still get
here!), her label at the time. Featuring spacey, sparse, and chilled beats,
CUT 4 ME was initially compared to the then-current works of SZA, Blood Orange, AlunaGeorge, Jessy Lanza, Solange, and even fka twigs, later receiving ‘Best New Music’ from
Pitchfork, alongside a score of 8.3, and critical acclaim from
the Guardian, too. (Its best track is
“Bank Head” - IMHO). Kelela at this point looked poised to really hit the ground running after the mixtape - but, from all that I can see - she effectively disappeared, until early 2015, when the
Hallucinogen EP was announced for May of that year, and preceded by
“A Message”, one of the work’s six tracks.
Released just slightly over two years after
CUT 4 ME, Hallucinogen landed on October 9th, 2015 (but leaked a month before), six months after her
previous work was reissued, and five months
after it was initially due to be released - but also at a time where her debut LP was previously promised. Featuring a tighter, more focused sound,
Hallucinogen followed in its predecessor’s footsteps, receiving not only ‘Best New Music’ from
Pitchfork (ddd), but an identical score of 8.3, too, and its own set of critical praise, reaching a score of 78 on
Metacritic, and ‘Album of the Week’ from
Stereogum. Built by a collaboration of previous producers, as well as the inclusion of individuals that would later encompass a good chunk of
Take Me Apart’s contributors,
Hallucinogen widened Kelela’s soundscape:
while holding intact her innate ability to pair vulnerability and emotional sensuality next to incredible warmth. In contrast to
CUT 4 ME, where Kelela glided over beats provided by production teams, on
Hallucinogen, she takes the reigns herself, re-centering herself, as well as her vocal, as the most prominent feature in her offerings. It’s where I began to properly pay better attention, all the while still only half-investing, as my ultimate wish was for that long-awaited LP, as many even more attentive fans were holding out for as well.
Originally promised for a
spring 2016 release, then
the autumn,
Take Me Apart, Kelela’s long-awaited debut album was finally officially announced on
July 17th, 2017, after years of intermittent features, touring, and other ventures, including:
Kelela finally addressed the topic head-on:
later following with the oft-teased album’s lead single, “LMK”, out the first of August. Kelela’s music continued the trend set two years prior with her EP, once again pushing her sound in a more concise, polished direction - but this time, paired with an even more present vocal, as well as contemporary production - harkening back to both where R&B was in the 90’s - but with a futuristic, forward-thinking touch for where it can grow to be.
At this point, I was hooked, but also just plainly intrigued. Much of who I had known Kelela to be an artist was shrouded in darkness and mystery, a facade I feel she too liked to maintain, especially as her debut album lingered somewhere in the distance, for both her, as well as her fans, desperately demanding it to be released online. It’s interesting how much more present she seems, on social media, in the press, overall, in a way that echoes her presence within her music.
Take Me Apart, the singer’s first fully-realized debut, finally dropped on October 6th, 2017, and its title is both apt for the album - a journey through two relationships, through Black womanhood, through sexuality, gender, and identity, all cast through the lens of Blackness and the unique ways in which these intersections inhibit and liberate, especially when navigated and negotiated as someone who has to surmount them - but for the woman herself, baring herself in a way that her audience had not yet been granted previously. Consisting of a fourteen spellbinding tracks, narrating a range of emotions across a variety of tempos, instrumental atmospheres, and evocative lyrics, it's an album that I didn’t realize that I needed, but one that I really can’t see myself ever again being without.
I went to college from 2007 until 2011, where I graduated with a degree from the Africana Studies department, with just one other student, an Iranian woman from New York City. In the years since I’ve left school, the department has only grown and attracted more inquiring minds, especially as social movements and pushes toward Afrocentricity/Afrocentrism have fostered and expanded. As someone who grew up lighter than many of the people in my family, the product of two mixed-race families with Black heritage, in a small town that was 93% white, majoring in Africana Studies was a revelation - I took courses on the history of Black music, on Black feminism and its roots; on the African diaspora ante- and postbellum; on James Baldwin and Toni Morrison; on Jim Crow, the Great Migration - on things that my pitiful social studies classes in high school and before had end-noted and left for a brief chapter or two (all save for one Black female teacher in 8th grade that both knew my own mother, but also taught us what the textbooks wouldn’t - I’m eternally grateful for her for planting a seed that would be harvested as a young man in college). I minored in Spanish
and Latinx Studies, becoming the first in my family to speak the language, as well as start on the journey I’m still on to better know my Afro-Latinidad. For the first time, I could contextualize where I came from, why I looked like I did, and the pains that my people went through. It was weird, but also warming - getting to thoroughly enjoy my coursework, while better knowing my identity in the process. This experience would forever change how I would see myself in this world.
Afrocentricity is the approach to history that combats
Eurocentricity - a much more common read and offering of history through the eyes of boring, played-out white people, instead casting people of color, specifically the African diaspora, as the lead characters in their own narratives. Afrocentrism focuses on how Black peoples experience their own realities (past, present, and future) as their own storytellers, not as supporting elements to how white people have navigated the world, colonizing, enslaving, and restricting the movement of Black peoples. As I left college and began to do professional work first in Spanish for a production firm - before transferring to HIV advocacy, my education and the perspective that it equipped me with: Afrocentricity, have guided me as a case manager for my clients and colleagues. And this desire to interrogate Afrocentricity and better incorporate into it my daily dealings, as well as de-colonize how whiteness and a Eurocentric worldview can obscure the unique things present in my identity and my history. Kelela’s music, as well as that of the other women here in my rate, have inspired me in ways unexpected - to embrace the best of ourselves as Black people in a world that states explicitly and implicitly that we should see ourselves as lesser than, lesser than a majority which has always been white, wielding power and privilege that
makes our histories elective and illegal, furthering how disenfranchised people of color are, while simultaneously criminalizing our histories and futures.
So let me link this back to Kelela - I promise I mentioned this all for a reason, kii. One of those reasons for her music having resonated so deeply with me is that it’s not that it’s necessarily “Black” on its surface, being outwardly and un-mistakenly political, proudly and clearly, as with “Formation”, “Cranes in the Sky”, some of Kendrick’s work, and more (forgive my lack of further examples…), but it’s how Kelela’s spoken of
her own world, as having to negotiate color, sexual, gender, etc. lines rather explicitly in her day-to-day life, and then translating these moments into rather subtle, implicit messages present within her musical offerings. There’s a hyper-intellectualized approach to what might otherwise be considered mundane and cliché on
Take Me Apart: at its core, it’s a pop/R&B record, with splashes of influence from a myriad of other genres, moving unapologetically to document two relationships and the transition between them. Love, sensuality, and sex dominant a wide range of pop music, but as a Black, queer, second-generation immigrant woman, Kelela’s
story and
voice are ones that we as consumers of art must seek out, must discover on our own time. I had to stumble upon her work, much like the other women here, as outside of Popjustice, I’d likely never have run into her material.
And, if we’re speaking honestly, because I know that I am, existing outside the lines of whiteness, heterosexuality, cisgender, and other markers of privilege and majority, is a political act in and of itself. In a world where being white, straight, and male, means your access and opportunities are infinite, to be visible and present away from those categories is an act of protest; an act of resistance. Kelela understands this too, even offering in the above Pitchfork interview, that while her work isn’t explicitly political, it is inherently so because as “
a black woman, nothing that I make could ever exist outside of that experience.”
Take Me Apart’s contents, as well as how it’s been depicted, promoted, and detailed by the artist herself, have been a perfect marriage of two things that much of Popjustice knows that I gravitate toward already: strong, melody-driven music, and social justice/awareness. All of the women in this rate have dealt with identity politics and navigating how social barriers have presented themselves within the context of their respective careers, all are “woke” in their own ways, but Kelela’s debut perhaps came at an opportune moment in my life: I’m leading the Latinx department at my second job as an editor-at-large, tasked with assembling Latinx stories from the diverse lanes that we inhabit, led by a supreme desire to do justice to the multitude of voices both traditionally seen and heard, and those not. On Popjustice, I often read deeply into many of the albums that I grow close to, creating my own interpretations for the themes that they depict, but with Kelela’s output… that job has almost been done for me? Kelela’s music has been a personal reminder that storytelling is not only necessary, because so many of our stories are commonly left out of the overall conversation, but that
how we share our stories is just as significant - something I’ve long carried to my method of music absorption.
Take Me Apart exists yes, as a record, specifying love and emotion as experienced by Kelela, but at the same time
Take Me Apart is designed and propelled by Kelela’s brand of storytelling and framing, exhibiting how a Black, queer woman can intentionally disrupt the lines that society expects from her as a woman first, but as a musician too. For so long I considered what it might look like to merge openly the topics of power, social justice, and identity politics in the package of a traditionalized pop album, while also never shying away from the conversations that those topics require when in the press. Kelela has done that in a manner that I aspire to follow as an editor, as a musician myself. It’s my favorite album of the lot here because it’s an almost perfect demonstration of the musician that I want to be, fronted by someone who’s shown bravery, vulnerability, warmth, compassion, and self-belief in an insanely magnetic manner, traits that I too hope will mark my work as an editor.
It may have taken long (and surely even longer for those fans since 2013), but in the end, Kelela’s debut did what it needed to do: it proved that she could construct, edit, and tighten her work for a full-length format release - while never shying away from openly sharing her truth. It makes me all that more happy to see where she goes for album #2. And so with that being said, I’ll leave you with my favorite track from the album:
And also remind you that she’s currently touring (I hope to see her in NYC in March), and you can keep up with her on social media
here.
Thanks again for your patience and participation!